


A Key To Fit The Lock

by MysticPuma



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Teenlock, new kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-17 19:27:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticPuma/pseuds/MysticPuma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teenlock AU- A transfer student comes to John's school. He decides to befriend him. Johnlock appears later on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Can't Help

**Author's Note:**

> Each Chapter is based off the lyrics of a song.
> 
> "There's a sadness that they don't see… You made a cage that you cannot break. I tried but I can't help at all… You don't have nothing but pride, to keep you alive." – Beautiful Lie, Amy Studt

"Hey, John. You have a nice half-term?" Mike Stamford asked.

"Meh, it could've been better." John shrugged. Mike just laughed, a little insensitively, but John was used to it.

"Ah well." Mike said, still smiling. "Hey, I hear there's a new transfer student." He changed the subject.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I heard he got kicked out of his last school for doing illegal experiments in the chemistry lab." Mike laughed again, but John frowned.

"Seriously?" he asked, a little shocked that someone their age could do that. Mike just nodded, because at that moment, their tutor entered. With him was a rather tall, pale boy, with dark curly hair, which only served to make his skin seem even paler. The girls of the class gasped and giggled, chattering among themselves excitedly, while the boys groaned; more competition. But John just stared. Underneath the boy's bored expression, ice-cold eyes and folded arms, John could see a silent sadness…

"This is Sherlock Holmes." Their teacher announced. "Now, I want you all to be nice to him, okay?" and John swore he could hear Sherlock mutter something snide under his breath. "Does anyone want to volunteer to show him around?" All the girls clamoured for the honour of taking this beautiful creature to see the school, clearly hoping that more would follow if they did. But John just stared.

Suddenly, Sherlock Holmes looked up, meeting his gaze, and John received the most vehement scowl of his entire life. He cast his eyes to the table, and didn't look at the new boy for the rest of the day.

Within a week, everyone avoided him. Even the girls, who had turned to admiring his looks from a distance. Sherlock Holmes already had a notorious reputation. Those who had tried to get close to him had experienced such a dark around around the boy that they were driven away by threat of insanity.

But John was still intrigued by the enigmatic young boy. He was in John's class for everything, but John was surprised he hadn't been boosted straight to A-level. The boy was a genius! He was always correcting the teachers, though… And nobody really knew what to think of him.

After a month, nobody really talked about him. He'd become 'old news' and was just a shadow in the corridors now. Admittedly, a shadow that stood out … John had never seen him without his big, grey coat, and blue scarf. He'd refused to take them off, and the teachers could hardly punish him, it wasn't illegal after all. Maybe he was just cold, it was winter. But John wondered if he'd still wear them in the summer. He wouldn't be surprised.

John couldn't comprehend what made him do it… but he did, and he could never bring himself to regret it.

It was early December. The school was beginning to buzz with the promise of Christmas. Period 4 was English. That day, John Watson turned to the seat behind him, and spoke to Sherlock Holmes…

"Hey." He said simply. Sherlock moved his head up a little to stare at him. "Um…" those eyes were piercing, completely disabling the link between John's brain and mouth for a moment. "So… What are you doing for Christmas?" it was all he could think to say.

"Family." Sherlock said dully.

"Oh. Cool." John was at a loss for words at the dryness such a young boy could enlace his words with.

"Why are you talking to me?" Sherlock snapped, making John flinch. "Nobody else does." It was still harsh, but under the dark aura others had felt, the aura that had pushed them away... John still saw the sadness, felt it wash over him. But before he could say anything about it, the bell went and Sherlock Holmes was out the door.

For a long while, John stayed quiet. Very quiet. He was silent at lunch, and during lessons, he would just sit quietly and do his work. He couldn't forget the look in Sherlock Holmes' eyes… A look of hope, destroyed by a sadness that he seemed to have been expecting.

It was the last week of term when they spoke again…

"Hey." John said, turning around to look at Sherlock.

"Yes? Did you want something?" he replied sharply. John flinched a little, but battled through it.

"No. Just wanted to say hi…" he muttered.

"Oh." Sherlock looked sheepish.

"Just 'cause someone says hi, it doesn't mean they want something." John explained, brightly. Sherlock looked embarrassed for a split second, before his expression turned steely and cold again. A wall, a barricade, a mask…

"So… when are you going?" John asked, trying to break the awkward silence that had fallen between them.

"Hm?" Sherlock looked at him, confusion etched on his face.

"To see your family." John clarified. "Sorry, should've put that in context…"

"Oh." Sherlock murmured, realising what John had meant. "No, I meant my family will force me to spend time with them."

"Oh." John breathed.

"They don't like me either."

"Huh? Who?"

"My family."

John was stunned. Whose family didn't like them?

"Surely they love you though?"

"What is love?" Sherlock asked. John thought he was kidding at first, and laughed. But he stopped when Sherlock spoke again; "Is it funny?" he asked. He really didn't know…

"You… don't know what love is?"

"No… should I?" he suddenly seemed so vulnerable. John felt a pang of guilt for laughing. "What is it?"

"Well, it's… It's hard to explain…"

"John Hamish Watson!" cried the teacher, snapping John's head back to the front. The class burst into raucous laughter, and John blushed. He hated his middle name. John turned his head back a little. Sherlock Holmes was the only person not laughing… "Quiet!" and the class stopped. "John, please pay attention, instead of trying to talk to the freak." Mrs Donovan snarled. The class began to laugh again, this time at Sherlock. John turned to look at him. He had turned to stare out of the window, with his head resting on his hand. He looked unaffected, but John was sure he saw a single tear slip down his cheek.

The bell rang for the end of the day, and Sherlock was gone again.

"Homework done for the first day back please!" Mrs Donovan called to the class. She hadn't even cared Sherlock wasn't there. John hurried from the room, ignoring Mike's insistent calls.

He saw the grey coat, and ran over to Sherlock, who was stuffing various books into his locker, not caring if they got damaged.

"Hey!" John called.

"Leave me alone." Sherlock snapped.

"I just thought you should know the homework is due on the first day back." John continued, ignoring the way Sherlock was trying to shut him out.

"I already did it."

"Oh, was that what you were doing while she was talking?"

Sherlock just nodded. He began to walk away, and John followed.

"Um… Are you walking home?" John asked. Sherlock nodded again. "Mind if I walk with you?" Sherlock shook his head. John smiled- perhaps the wall could be cracked. "So where do you live?"

"Out of town."

"But… You have to walk?" John asked, not bothering to hide his shock. No wonder this guy was so thin… Sherlock nodded quickly. "What about your parents?"

"They say it's good for me."

"How… How long is the walk?"

"Two hours." He replied as though it was perfectly normal.

"Wh-what about the bus?"

"No money."

"Are you poor?" he couldn't imagine some like Sherlock, posh to the point of ridiculousness, being poor… But if he couldn't afford the bus and therefore had to walk…

"No." well that shot that idea.

"They can't spare a couple of quid!?"

"They don't want to."

"But-"

"It all goes to Mycroft." A moment of silence.

"Who?"

"My brother." Sherlock explained, and the hint of sadness that had underpinned everything he'd said so far was suddenly obvious. They walked in silence for a while, as John digested the information.

"Are they expecting you home for dinner?" he suddenly asked. Sherlock shook his head.

"I make my own."

"Oh…" go on, John. Ask… "Well… would you like to come to my house?"

"I-" Sherlock's face seemed to light up for a short moment, but it faded just as quickly. "I shouldn't." he said, looking down at the pavement.

"I bet my mum wouldn't mind… Please?"

"Why would you want me there?" Sherlock asked.

"You can have dinner at ours. Besides… I get lonely at mine. My sister's always out partying now-a-days… We always used to hang out…" he sighed, sadly. He shook his head, returning to his bubbly self. "Come on. It'll be good for you." He said, with a wink. Sherlock seemed to think for a moment.

"I… alright." He muttered. John smiled.

"Great! This way." He said. "We're about fifteen minutes away. I'll just call Mum to let her know you're coming." He pulled out his phone, and scrolled through his contacts until he found 'home'. After a moment, his mother picked up. "Hi, Mum. Yeah, it's me. No, I haven't seen Harry… Anyway, Mum is it alright if my friend comes over for dinner?"

Sherlock looked up suddenly from the pavement, eyes wide. Friend? John considered him a… friend? Sherlock had never had a friend…

"Great! What? Really!? How come you're suggesting- oh Mum… Thanks! Yeah, 'course. See you soon, love you!" and he hung up. Sherlock looked at him expectantly.

"You can come over." John was beaming; did he have more to say? "Also… If you can get permission from your parents, you can stay over!"

"Huh?" John was learning fast that there were a lot of things Sherlock Holmes didn't understand… It seemed he had found another one.

"Stay over? You can stay the night." John explained, with a smile and a light chuckle.

"Oh." Sherlock smiled sheepishly.

"Wanna call your parents then?"

"O-okay." Sherlock muttered, pulling out a phone that wasn't exactly new… Sherlock saw John's puzzled expression. "Hand-me-down." He said simply, before pressing the 'call; button. "Hello, Mother. It's Sherlock." His voice was suddenly posh – correction, his voice was more posh… And a strangely mechanical tone took him over.

John could tell the phone was broken… It seemed to be stuck on speaker-phone.

"What do you want?" came a sharp, female voice.

"I was simply curious as to whether I would be allowed, that is, would it be acceptable for me to stay over at a… friend's…" – he had trouble with the word- "…house tonight?"

"Do whatever you wish, Sherlock." Came a curt reply, and she hung up. Sherlock looked at John and nodded. John smiled, and they continued towards his house.

"Your Mum always like that?" John asked. Sherlock nodded. "Oh…" he could hear how much she cared about Sherlock; very little, if at all. Poor Sherlock. No wonder he didn't understand love. John hoped her could at least crack the shell that seemed to have surrounded Sherlock's heart. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he was going to try…


	2. Love Is War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If love is war, then you're a good reason to fight." – Joe Mcelderry, Love is War.
> 
> John tries to get Sherlock to open up a bit more.

"Mum, this is Sherlock Holmes." John announced.

"Oh, hello." Said John's Mum, with a welcoming smile. Sherlock smiled meekly back, feeling more than a little awkward.

"He's a bit… Emotionally challenged?" John whispered to his mother quickly. "He might be rude sometimes, but that's just how he was raised. Just warning you." He didn't want her getting upset if Sherlock was unnecessarily harsh… She just nodded, and looked back to Sherlock.

"Did you get permission to stay over, Sherlock?" she asked. Sherlock nodded, and Mrs Watson smiled again. "I'll go and set up the spare mattress in John's room then." And she left.

"You do have manners…" John joked.

"She smiles too much…" Sherlock murmured, and although John knew he was completely serious, he laughed. "What?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter." John said, not wishing to provoke anger in Sherlock. He'd witnessed the boy's anger, although thankfully he hadn't been on the receiving end… yet.

John led Sherlock into the living room. He dumped his bag and coat in a corner, indicating that Sherlock should do the same. He was more than a little surprised when Sherlock actually removed his coat, and his scarf. This was the first time John had actually seen Sherlock in his school uniform. It looked a tad too small, but perhaps that was what made it fit his perfectly. Every part of his perfectly sculpted body had a matching piece of clothing, which only served to flatter the young teen's features even more! But John couldn't help but notice the strain that the buttons of his shirt were under…

"You've never taken that off before…" John muttered.

"I get too much attention." Sherlock stated simply. He certainly wasn't ignorant of his good looks.

"Ah. Can't say I'm surprised." John laughed. Sherlock didn't. John broke the awkward silence before it could fully develop; "Why do you have them too small?"

"Mother insists. She says it looks better. It's the only thing she doesn't despise about me; my looks…." Sherlock explained. John grimaced, but Sherlock didn't seem bothered by it.

"Sit down." He indicated a seat, and Sherlock sat, his back straight, as if there was a rod up his shirt, and his hands carefully placed on his lap. John decided not to comment. "Why does your mum hate you so much?"

"Honestly? I don't know. Of course, I've had my theories." Sherlock replied.

"Which is most likely?"

"Favouritism, I believe. She loves Mycroft, she hates me. Simple logic really." He said with a shrug.

"Favouritism? But that's just liking someone a bit more than someone else. Not hating one of them!"

"Not in my family." Sherlock said bluntly. John grimaced again.

"Poor you."

"I'm used to it."

"I… I guess… But still…" John murmured, looking down.

"Is that not how things work for you?" Sherlock asked.

"No."

"But your older sister?"

"I never said she was older."

"But you did say she does a lot of partying. If she was younger, she wouldn't be."

"Oh… Nice." John said, with a smile.

"Hm?"

"How you figured that out." John explained, still beaming.

"Oh. People don't normally…" he trailed off, but John looked at him expectantly, prompting him to continue. "Well, they don't like it… When I deduce things…"

"Well, I think it's brilliant!" John said. Sherlock smiled a little.

"Really?" and John thought he saw a glimmer of hope and timid-ness behind the stone mask of his new friend's face.

"Of course! And you're a genius too!" John exclaimed, and Sherlock couldn't stop himself blushing slightly. John felt for a moment like he was getting somewhere, but his heart dropped when he saw Sherlock seemingly reprimand himself under his breath, before rebuilding his mask. John sighed. This would be harder than he thought; but maybe the key to unlocking the heart John knew Sherlock had was the make him feel valued…

John's Mum came down the stairs.

"There we go." She said with a smile that could have been considered sickly, even by John.

"Thanks, Mum. Come on Sherlock." John said, grabbing Sherlock's hand, and pulling him up towards the stairs.

"Tea will be at about six, boys!" John's Mum called. She sighed when they didn't answer. "They always end up ignoring you… He's 16, I shouldn't be surprised… My babies are all grown up…" she smiled sadly, as she returned to the kitchen.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the next two hours, Sherlock listened diligently to John's tales of family picnics, trips to the beach, holidays gone wrong and Christmas parties that had been a little too full of wine. All things Sherlock had never experienced.

When they were called to dinner, Sherlock was perfectly polite, which John found odd… Even a little shocking. Sherlock had always come across as a rude, uncaring boy. But John was beginning to see now that that wasn't at all true… In fact, he was just scared of being hurt. So, he hid his emotions behind a steel wall, coated in ice. He knew how to act in polite company though… John supposed he shouldn't be surprised really, with the family Sherlock grew up with.

They returned to John's room after Sherlock had given a smaill bow and a quiet "thank you" to John's Mother.

"You surprised me there." John said. Sherlock frowned in confusion. "You were all… polite…"

"I have been taught manners, John." Sherlock snapped, seemingly offended

"Sorry. It's just, you're so sharp usually…" John murmured. Sherlock looked down.

"F-forgive me…" he muttered, sadly. "I did not mean to be so curt." He said. John smiled warmly.

"Don't worry. I understand."

"May I use the bathroom, please?" Sherlock asked. He was being overly polite now… reserved. John knew he should have said anything. He'd taken one step forward and two steps back… Dammit!

"Sure, it's just there." He said, pointing to the door at the end of the landing.

"Thank you." Sherlock said, bowing a little, and hurrying in. John could see that his moves would have to be more calculated if he was going to win this war…


	3. I'm Hoping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know I'm hoping you'll sing along, though it's not your favourite song; don't wanna be there when there's nothing left to say…" – Best Of Me, Daniel Powter
> 
> John's efforts continue...

John waited for Sherlock to return. It was dark outside, so he had drawn the curtain and turned his bed-side lamp on, more as a way of keeping himself busy enough to forget the silence though. Sherlock returned from the bathroom, quiet. John could practically see the bubble that had formed around him again.

"Hey, sorry about before…"

"Nothing that you said requires an apology, John." Sherlock murmured in response.

"But- Hey, I told you about all that stuff." He said, changing the subject abruptly. "What about you? Any family outings, or anything?"

"No."

"What?"

"There are none. None I'd care to mention anyway."

"Oh…" John looked down.

"Sorry."

"It's not your fault, Sherlock." John said, with a smile as he sat down on his bed. "So then…" think of another subject… hm… ahha! "What do you do for fun usually?"

"Fun?"

"Yeah… You know, to relax?"

"Re… lax?"

"Do you not just… sit around?"

"Oh… Mother insists I work. Or I do the family accounts. Or similar activities."

"But…" John couldn't think what to say.

"If I'm not doing that, I research." Ahha! Something I can ask about!

"What do you research?"

"Chemistry, Biology, Physics… The odd maths problem if I'm bored."

"I suppose that's… fair enough." John muttered.

"Don't worry, I know it's something freaks do." Sherlock said, thinking he'd hid the sadness in his voice well. He probably had, but not from John. John held up his hands.

"No! I didn't mean that!" he cried.

"But you believe it." Sherlock stated."

"No." John said firmly. Sherlock looked at him, studying him… Confused. "I don't think you're a freak, Sherlock." He said. I seemed Sherlock didn't believe him. "Really, I don't think you're a freak."

"Even the teachers think I am, so why should I believe you don't?"

"Because I'm different…" John said, smiling. Sherlock couldn't stop the small smile that lit up his face. "Hey, have you got a nickname? Sherlock is a bit of a mouthful sometimes…" he asked, taking advantage of Sherlock's sudden happiness.

"Uh… Mycroft calls me Sherly… But I hate that." Sherlock explained. John thought for a moment.

"Hm… What about… 'Lock?" he asked.

"Okay." Sherlock said. Nobody had ever given him a nickname other than Mycroft. Myscroft only did it to mock him. Sherlock hated being called 'Sherly'…

"Okay, 'Lock." John grinned. "So what do you want to be?" he asked, trying to find something to talk about.

"I want to make my own profession." Sherlock said, quietly. He'd never told anyone else about this before. When he'd told Mycroft, he'd thought Sherlock was joking, and laughed.

"Oh?"

"I want to be a Consulting Detective…"

"What's that, like a Private Detective?"

"Sort of…"

"So, what's the difference?" John asked, genuinely interested.

"Private detectives are… well, private. But I want to be the one the police go to when they're one of their depth. Which is… well, always." Sherlock explained, earning a little chuckle from John.

"That sounds great!" John exclaimed.

"What about you?"

"Me? I want to be an army doctor."

"Oh?"

"I just want to… you know, help people." John said, with a grin. Sherlock smiled, although there was a hint of sadness. "What?"

"You're so kind=hearted John." He said. John blushed a little, looking down. But he looked up again, seeing Sherlock's dejected expression. "I don't have a heart."

"Yes you do."

"No. I don't, John. I don't understand… feelings." He said. John smiled kindly.

"I don't think that means you have no heart, 'Lock. Here…" he said, and he leant his head against Sherlock's chest lightly. Thu-thump, thu-thump. It sped up, and John pulled his head away to see a flustered look on Sherlock's face. "Sorry, but you're wrong." John said with a cheeky grin. Sherlock frowned in confusion. "You do have a heart, 'Lock. I can hear it."

"But…"

"But I think your heart is locked away, though." John cut him off, placing a hand on Sherlock's chest. "I guess it's kind of ironic, cause of your name, 'Lock. But I think that's why you don't really understand emotions. Your heart has been locked away."

Sherlock just stared at him. John moved forward a little, do they were now inches apart.

"I want to help you unlock it." He said. Sherlock felt a slight increase in his heart-beat again, but suppressed the blush rising to his cheeks. "But you have to try…" John sat back again. "You have to try and open up, yeah? Otherwise, nothing will change."

"O…kay?"

"Think of it like this… I we were a duet, and only I was singing, it wouldn't sound right. I'd need you to sing along too. Otherwise, the song wouldn't sound right. Even though it's not your favourite song, your input is needed. I know you don't want to open up, but it you don't we won't get anywhere." John explained. "Sorry, that was long-winded." He laughed. Sherlock didn't even smile. He just looked puzzled. "What?"

"Why do you want to help me?" he asked. "I'm certainly not worth the trouble."

"Is that what you think?" John asked. "You really don't think you're worth it?" Sherlock shook his head. "But you are. Why don't you think you're worth it?"

"Because I'm not. I'm a heartless freak. I don't deserve help. I don't deserve anything."

"Is that what your Mum's said?" John asked, his voice raising a little. Sherlock looked down. "It is isn't it!?" Sherlock stayed silent. "You can't listen to her, Sherlock!" he yelled finally, and Sherlock flinched. And as John saw a tear silently roll down his cheek, he realised… Sherlock may be a genius, with the intelligence of a 40 year old scientist, but he was still a child, held back mentally by his Mother's lack of love for him. And John yelling like that had been just like her slapping him…

Sherlock ran from the room and into the bathroom. DAMMIT! John cursed under his breath as the door slammed shut. He really wasn't doing well…


	4. Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So many things that I wish you knew; so many walls up I can't break through." – The Story of Us, Taylor Swift.
> 
> John begins to break through the walls surrounding Sherlock's heart at last…

"Sherlock?" John called through the bathroom door. He could hear sobbing, even though he knew Sherlock was trying to hide it. "Sherlock, I'm sorry… Please let me in."

"Go away." Came the muffled reply.

"No." John said, stubbornly. Then, softer: "Please, can I come in?" Silence followed. "I'll take that as a yes, then?" he asked. When Sherlock didn't answer again, John just pushed the door open. Sherlock was huddled in the corner, head buried in his folded arms, which were rested on his knees. "'Lock?"

"What?"

"I'm really sorry." John said. "I didn't mean to yell." He shuffled awkwardly, before sitting down and wrapping his arms around Sherlock's thin shoulders. He felt Sherlock stiffen under the contact. But then, he leant into the hug… He really was like a child sometimes…

"I've never know anything but my mother's opinions." Sherlock muttered.

"I know, 'Lock. I'm so sorry." John said.

"It's…okay. I know you didn't mean it." Sherlock murmured.

"Everything okay, boys?" called Mrs Watson.

"Yeah, Mum!" John cried. "Come on, 'Lock." He said, standing up and holding his hand out to help him up. Sherlock stared at the hand for a moment, then took it. He was looking down, blushing a little, wishing the hug had lasted longer. He'd never been hugged before…

"It's getting late, John." His Mum said as they went towards his room again. "You two should go to bed soon. You have school tomorrow."

"Okay, Mum." John said.

"Here!" she called again, throwing their bags up the stairs. Sherlock ducked swiftly around John and threw his arms out, catching both bags, along with his coat and scarf. John stared at him in awe, but his Mother had already gone, and hadn't seen.

"That was amazing…" John muttered.

"Really?" Sherlock asked, confused. John took his own bag from Sherlock, and they went into his room.

"Yeah! Is there anything you're not brilliant at? Care to share some of your skills? I know I need some…" he said, chuckling, and amazingly, Sherlock began to laugh. John suddenly remembered though… "Wait a minute… You don't have any pyjamas, do you? Do you want to borrow some of mine?" he asked. Sherlock glanced briefly between them.

"Do you think they'd fit?" he asked sarcastically. John grimaced.

"Okay, maybe not… Will you be alright?"

"Yes, I'll be fine." Sherlock said, with a reassuring smile. John smiled back, and they went to brush their teeth, for which John lent Sherlock one of his spare toothbrushes.

When they returned to John's room, John quickly checked the radiator was on, before calling down to his mother; "Night Mum!"

"Goodnight, boys!" she replied.

"Goodnight, Mrs Watson!" called Sherlock, earning a smile from John. John shut the door, and found his pyjamas from the wardrobe, before beginning to change. Sherlock just stood, looking self-conscious. John sighed. He should've expected this…

"Come on, 'Lock. You can't sleep in your school uniform." John said, throwing his own top into a corner, and proceeding to unbuckle his belt.

"I suppose not…" Sherlock muttered. "But I…"

"'Lock…" John reprimanded. Sherlock sighed, pulling off his blazer, and folding it before laying it neatly besides the mattress. John pulled on his pyjamas as Sherlock began to unbutton his shirt. If Sherlock hadn't been so focussed on not being embarrassed, and had instead paid attention, he may have noticed John staring at him as he undressed, and wondering at how perfect Sherlock's body really was. But Sherlock was too busy folding his clothes meticulously to realise, to John's relief, because it wasn't that he hadn't realised he was staring… it was that he couldn't help it. He mentally slapped himself. He was NOT gay.

Soon, Sherlock was folding up his trousers, and John could still see the embarrassment and sheer awkwardness he was feeling, standing in some-one else's room in just his boxers… He purple, silk boxers… John gulped, and climbed into bed.

Sherlock was almost immediately under the covers on the mattress himself once he'd finished folding his clothes. He still felt awkward, and John did too.

"Are you… going to be warm enough?" John asked to break the silence.

"Maybe. I don't know." Sherlock said, with a small, nervous laugh. John grimaced.

"Sorry."

"It's not really your fault you're tiny." Sherlock said, looking at John with a cheeky smile. John scowled, but laughed all the same.

"Shut up!" he said. Sherlock began to laugh too. John sat up, throwing one of his pillows at Sherlock, who just grinned and threw it back. John laughed and threw it back again, only to receive it again, in the face. "Alright, that's it!" he cried, launching himself at Sherlock and beginning to tickle him. Sherlock squirmed, laughing all the while, until he managed to tickle back, and found that John was even more ticklish than he was. Once Sherlock had begun to tickle him, John was unable to even attempt to tickle back, he was too busy trying desperately to guard himself from Sherlock's assault.

Mrs Watson could hear them from downstairs. She sighed. "Play, fighting? How childish." She chuckled to himself, turning up the TV to drown them out.

Completely out of breath, the two stopped tickling and fighting, and lay in a rather tangled mess, laughing breathlessly. Sherlock laugh was free and held no self-conscious connotations. John glowed inside. Progress at last!


	5. Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I complicated our lives, by falling in love with him." – Loves Me Not, t.A.T.u.
> 
> Sherlock and John are never apart anymore, but John has come to terms with his developing feeling for Sherlock…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for my severe lack of updating this... Um... I have no excuse, I'm a terrible person... ENJOY!

They awoke still tangled up. They both laughed, remembering what has left them in such a state. John was glad to see Sherlock had not become awkward again.

They got dressed and hurried down the stairs.

"What would you like to eat?" John asked.

"I don't need anything, thank you." Sherlock said with a smile. "I don't usually eat breakfast." John stared at him, shocked.

"And you walk two hours to school!?" he cried. Sherlock nodded. "Wow. Well, why don't you try having something? Just for the sake of it." He continued. "Besides, Mum will probably kill me if I don't feed you!" he added, with a laugh. Sherlock laughed too.

"Alright." He conceded. "For your sake." John smiled sheepishly, making him a piece of toast, which he ate quite happily.

"Hey, Mum. Where's Harry?" John asked, as his Mother walked in.

"Your sister didn't come home last night. Again." She replied. John sighed. She was never home anymore.

As though on cue, the door swung open and in burst Miss Harriet Watson.

"Harriet! We have a guest in the house! Couldn't you be a bit more-" she stopped, suddenly. Harry's breath had snaked its way to her mother's nose. "Are you drunk?"

"Hiya, Mum!" Harry yelled. There was her answer… John flinched, signalling to Sherlock they should probably go. "Oh Johnny! You finally got a boyfriend! YAY!" cried his intoxitated sister, flaiing her arms in celebration.

"I'm not gay, Harry." John growled, pushing Sherlock through the door, then swiftly following him.

"She seems like a lovely person to have around…" Sherlock muttered sarcastically. John just sighed sadly.

"Sorry you had to see that." He said, with a grimace. "She's almost always like that now-a-days." And his tone spoke of the times he used to know, of family picnics, tickle fights, playful teasing, and Harry protecting him in school…

"Don't worry." Sherlock said, smiling at John, wanting him to cheer up. John couldn't help but smile back. It seemed that Sherlock's walls had finally come down, and the pride and happiness John felt at the thought that he'd caused it was overwhelming.

They left quickly, keen to avoid as much of the argument as they could.

"Last day of term." John reminded Sherlock, with a smile.

"Finally." Sherlock said, returning the smile.

The reached the school sooner than they'd anticipated, and were half an hour early.

"I guess we misjudged this." John laughed. Sherlock laughed too, but shrugged. "I suppose at least we avoided the worst of the argument…"

"That wasn't the worst?" Sherlock asked, incredulous.

"Oh, no… The worst is at the half-hour mark, we they very rarely don't reach…" Sherlock grimaced at the thought.

They were sat outside the tutor room. It was only ten minutes before others began to arrive and settle themselves to wait. John immediately saw the change in Sherlock's behaviour, as more people appeared. He became quieter, and he stopped laughing. At first John thought he'd done something wrong, and gone back to square one (that thought came with no small amount of despair). But he soon realised that Sherlock had simply withdrawn because of the other people.

John felt mixed emotions at that. On the one hand, he felt privileged, as he was the only one that Sherlock was open with. But on the other hand… he missed his Sherlock. He missed 'Lock, the carefree Consulting Detective. But it was still nice, because despite the re-erected walls, Sherlock was stil speaking to him. He still joked, and John could read the smiles in his eyes, even if he didn't smile on the outside.

It was chemistry first. Sherlock was usually alone, sat on a double table at the back of the class. But today, John moved from his seat with Mike, Tom and James in favour of sitting with Sherlock. Sherlock was actually surprised by this, but glad. John felt a much stronger connection with Sherlock than he did with his other friends. At break, Sherlock said he had to go and look something up in the library.

"Go and hang out with your friends." He said cheerily. "I'll see you in Psychology."

"Oh, okay. You sure?"

"Yeah. You should speak to them, anyway. I'd just feel awkward." Sherlock muttered. John grimaced.

"Alright, well… I'll see you later." He said reluctantly, and they went their separate ways.

"Okay, Watson." Mike said, after about 5 minutes in his company. "What did you do? Cast a spell?"

"Huh?"

"That Sherlock freak! He's actually responding to you!"

"He's not a freak." John muttered, annoyed.

"He is a freak. I dunno why you want to talk to him." Tom replied bluntly.

"I'd say that makes you a freak too, huh John?" James added, with a chuckle. Suddenly, John threw his half-eaten apple to the floor in anger.

"Sherlock is NOT a freak!" he yelled, storming away from them. Coincidentally, he bumped into Sherlock.

"John?" he said, taken a-back, although he had of course heard everything.

"They disgust me!" John spat angrily.

"John, calm down."

"Calm down!? Did you hear them!?" John cried exasperatedly.

"Yes."

"But… they called you a freak!"

"Well, it's true… It's okay John."

"NO IT'S NOT! IT'S NOT OKAY!" John yelled. Sherlock flinched, and John instantly regretted shouting, as he saw the child from the night before reappear for a split second. He calmed himself and they began to walk to Psychology. "Sorry." He said.

"It's okay."

"No… I shouldn't have yelled. I don't really want a repeat of yesterday…" he muttered. Sherlock flinched again.

"You had to mention it." The embarrassment was clear.

"Sorry."

"It doesn't matter." He said.

"It just… It pissed me off when they call you a freak, you know? 'Cause you're not a freak…"

"Thank you, John." Sherlock said, not bothering to hide the smile of gratitude and surprise that someone didn't think he was a freak. However, John did notice he was not yet fully open with him, because he was hiding something behind the smile. What could that be?

Little did John know it was a blush.

For the rest of the day, John stayed with Sherlock. He didn't even look at his other friends. He didn't want to even be their friend anymore. Not after that little display.

Neither of them were deaf. They could hear the whispers and rumours beginning to spread about them, so they weren't greatly surprised (okay… Sherlock wasn't greatly surprised, since John hadn't actually noticed) when a girl from Year 8 (bless her) came up to them at the end of lunch. Sherlock' walls immediately shot up, alerting John to someone behind him.

"Can I help you?" John asked the small girl. She looked very nervous. A messenger for her friend, John supposed.

"Uh…" she stammered fr a moment. Sherlock sighed, and continued to stare at his book. John knew he wasn't reading it. It was about business for crying out loud. "Well… Are you two… together?" she finally asked, in what could easily be passed as a whisper. Sherlock looked over the top of the book to stare at John, then at the girl.

"What? No – no!" John stammerd. Sherlock looked away, hding his face in his book. "No." John said firmly. We're not."

"Oh… uh, okay." The girl stuttered, before turning and running away to her friends.

"Why do people assume we're gay?" John asked, more than a little irritated. Sherlock looked up again, his mask still made of steel.

"I don't know."

"And why in the hell are you pretending to read that book?"

"Pretending?"

"I know you do business, but you hate every god-damn minute! John exclaimed. "You think it's a waste of time!" Sherlock looked taken aback, and a little fearful for a moment, before he scowled.

"How do you know that?" he growled. "I never told you."

"But you-"

"No, John. I never told you about my hatred for business studies. And you don't deduce." Sherlock emphasised.

"I saw how you acted in the lesson… That's all. I'm sorry…" John muttered. Sherlock closed his book firmly.

"You abandoned your friends in favour of me. Why?" Sherlock asked. His voice was sterile, but forceful. He was on a mission, and John was right I the firing line.

"Well-"

"Was it because you thought I was more interesting? A little experiment, then when we come back from Winter break you'll forget about me? Is that it!?" John couldn't escape the feeling that that was what had happened in the past… Someone would befriend him… Then they'd go away for a while, and Sherlock would be ignored again…

"No, 'Lock!"

"Then why? Nobody else ever cared. Why do you?" John saw the spikes on Sherlock's walls. He was losing grip… John couldn't see the tears beginning to well in Sherlock's eyes. He was too busy trying to think of how to calm down his friend.

"Because… Well…" he looked away.

"You say I lock my feelings away, but maybe you need t have a look at your own, John." Sherlock snapped, and John looked up just in time to see him turn and storm away as the bell for next lesson rang. He never saw the tears streamin from Sherlock's once crystal eyes.

John and Sherlock were sat beside each other in naths. People didn't notice they weren't talking.

The teacher gave them a short break in the middle of the double lesson, and that was when they finally spoke again.

"Sherlock?" John muttered.

"What?" Sherlock asked emotionlessly, refusing to look at him.

"I'm sorry." And with just those words, he saw a crack in the ice.

"So am I." Sherlock said.

"I honestly don't know why I started talking to you before… But what I do know is that I'm really glad I did. Under the cold exterior, you're actually a really nice guy… you're warm, and you're funny." John explained. Sherlock looked away, embarrassed.

"Thank you, John…"

"And I promise I won't forget you over the winter break. I swear… We could always meet up." He suggested. "Or maybe- no.. no never mind."

"What?" Sherlock prompted, looking him in the eye.

"Well, I was just thinking… Maybe you'd want to stay at mine…" John muttered. Sherlock's face seemed to light up, but then he stopped himself, and bit his lip.

"Your Mother would never allow it…" he reasoned. John sighed.

"I bet she would. She knows I get lonely, and if I explain your situation, she can't refuse!"

"I'd refuse me…" Sherlock murmured sadly.

"Well that's different, isn't it?" John said matter-of-factly. Sherlock smiled a little. "I could ask Mum to drive us to your house to get you some things." John suggested. Sherlock grimaced.

"Your Mother is far too nice to go anywhere near my house-hold John…"

"Huh?"

"My family is horrid." Sherlock put plainly.

"Well… we could walk. But that's silly. Hm… How about we park down the road?"

"You're planning this quite meticulously, John… You do of course realise that there is next to no chance of this even happening?" Sherlock muttered gloomily.

"Don't be so pessimistic!" John exclaimed.

"The word is realistic, John…" Sherlock pointed out. "I am being realistic. Honestly, why would your Mother allow me to stay with you for two weeks?"

"Because it would make me happy?"

"You'd be bored of me after a few days."

"No I wouldn't. Why would I be?" John asked, slightly offended.

"I don't know…"

"Exactly, I wouldn't. So come on… At least see? No point is not trying!" John tried convincing him. Sherlock sighed in defeat.

"I suppose it's worth a shot." He said. John grinned.

"Of course it is!" sometimes his blind optimisim was painful for Sherlock, who had (if he was perfectly honest with himself) always been a particularly pessimistic person. However, that also made John's sparkling mook quite endearing and Sherlock couldn't help smiling at it. The break ended, and they finished the lesson with painfully simple (for Sherlockanyway) algebraic problems. The lesson was soon over.

"Ah, that was horridly dull and easy." Sherlock said, stretching his abHoppnormally long arms. John turned his head to stare at him.

"That was not easy! You must have been given a super brain!" he exclaimed. Sherlock was walking with his arms folded behind his head, and he cocked his head a little in John's direction.

"Hardly. More like everyone else is an idiot." He muttered nonchalantly.

"Oh, and that of course includes me?"

"Of course." Shrelock said, winking at him. John growled, but secretly, he was admiring Sherlock's face, hit with the cool winter sun, his hair ruffling slightly in the breeze, with one eye closed. John's heart stopped in that moment.


	6. There's a Fine, Fine Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There's a fine, fine line between a lover and a friend…" – There's a Fine, Fine Line, Avenue Q.
> 
> John's feelings for Sherlock develop further, but how can he bear it when Sherlock can never feel the same?

Of course, John's Mother agreed to have Sherlock stay over the Winter holiday. Now they just had to ask _Sherlock's_ Mother…

"Hello, Mother." He said, his abnormally posh voice coming out again.

"What do you want this time? I hope this won't become routine. I do so hate to hear your voice." His Mother snapped. John frowned; he loved Sherlock's voice. Who could hate such a smooth, deep voice? Nobody same, and there was his answer… Nobody sane; Sherlock's Mother was obviously not sane… She was anything but... And John swore he'd seen Sherlock flinch at her tone.

"Well, w-would it be… to your liking… if I were to stay with John over the winter holiday?" It seemed he had to choose his words carefully, and John wasn't surprised, but he did hate how nervous Sherlock's usually calm voice sounded.

"Who the hell is John?" the colloquial language sounded odd and cruel in the voice of the witch.

"My… my friend."

"Friend!? Of you? HAH! I bet he just wants to get at our money!" John couldn't helpbeing offended by that statement…

"No… Actually he thought we were poor at first."

"US!? POOR!? The very though makes me sick!" his mother bellowed. Sherlock visibly flinched again. "So… you'd be staying at this… _John's_ house all through the holiday?" the way she spat out John's name had a venom in it that John couldn't really understand the meaning for.

"Yes…"

"Even Christmas Day?"

"If allowed…"

"Well by all means do then! Anything to avoid _your_ company at Christmas!" she said. If John had to applaud anything about this woman, it would certainly have to be her honesty.

"I'll have to come and collect some things…" Sherlock said.

"Well, hurry ip. The sooner you do, the sooner I won't have to see you for two weeks!" she snapped, and hung up. Sherlock turned the John and smiled weakly. John grinned.

They were right outside John's house, having not realised how long the phone call was…

"Hello again, Sherlock." Mrs Watson greeted him cheerily. Sherlock smiled.

"Hello. Thank you for allowing me to stay again." He said quietly. "Sorry if it's any trouble."

"No, no trouble at all dear." She said with a smile. "I'm just glad John has someone to properly share Christmas with." She added quietly, and Sherlock couldn't help noticing the sad look that crossed her eyes, but he decided not to pry. "So the, shall we go and get some things from yours, Sherlock?" she asked, suddenly cheery again. Sherlock and John both smiled.

It took around half an hour to drive to Sherlock's house; the traffic was a little backed up… They parked down the road, so the house was only just visible.

"You should probably both stay here…" Sherlock said. "My family isn't well known for their… kindness?"

"Are they not like you?" Mrs Watson asked innocently.

"Nothing like me, I'm afraid to say…" Sherlock sighed.

"I'll go with you, Sherlock." John offered, knowing full well Sherlock needed protecting from his family probably a lot more than he himself did.

"But-"

"You'll need help carrying stuff… You _are_ staying for two weeks…" John cut him off. Sherlock sighed, giving in.

"Okay…" Sherlock conceded. He really didn't want to subject John to his family. They trudged up the road, Sherlock walking as though he was taking John to his death. But John didn't think of it like that, too busy staring in awe at the sheer size of Sherlock's… house? No, Mansion.

Sherlock pushed the door open.

"Ah, Sherlock." Came a voice. Sherlock groaned. John looked to him for an explanation.

"Mycroft…" Sherlock muttered, and John could hear the disdain in his voice. In came another tall boy, although strangely shorter than his younger brother. Mycroft stopped to stare at John.

"Who the devil are you? Did you get yourself a servant, Sherly?" Sherlock bristled, whether it was at the name, or the insult, John couldn't really tell.

"No, Mycroft. He's my friend." He growled. Mycroft cackled, and John grimaced at the sound.

"A friend? HAH!" he exclaimed, laughing heartily, and John couldn't help but see the similarities between this cruel boy, and the two's equally cruel Mother. "He must be pretty thick to be friends with you!" and he went through to the lounge. Sherlock was staring at the ground, seething, and John expected the wooden floor would start to burn any moment. He placed a hand on Sherlock's arm gently.

"It's okay, 'Lock…."

"No, it's not. I told you they were horrid…" Sherlock muttered, venom dripping from his voice, as though he was willing it to poison his family.

"Don't worry. I can take it." John said, with a re-assuring smile. Sherlock smiled a little, and led John up the stairs, believing him, as he seemed unaffected by the cruelty of his family. Once on the top floor, he picked up a posh looking cane and poked what looked like a trap door. He pulled a ladder down and began to climb it. "'Lock…?"

"Are you coming?"

"Into the… attic?" John asked slowly.

"This is my room." Sherlock said, seemingly not offended.

"Oh! Sorry…"

"Don't worry. I know it's odd." Sherlock said, as John followed him up the ladder. Compared to the rest of the house, it was quite basic. However, compared to John's house, it was a little more grand… The bed was a simple, but posh single, unlike all the doubles in the rest of the house. John had glimpsed Mycroft's room through the open door, and even he had a double.

As John looked around the room, he realised how much Sherlock's family really cared… and that was certainly not a lot. He had a computer in the corner which was _at least_ 5 years old, a stack of battered books which looked old (John guessed they'd belonged to Mycroft first), a stand-alone heater which was, by the looks of it, in desperate need of repair, and there was a hole in the roof with a very large bucket underneath it. Thankfully, it seemed Sherlock was allowed to use the family bathroom and kitchen, but that was the extent of his luxuries.

"Do you like stargazing?" John asked, looking at the telescope in the corner of the room, the only thing that wasn't old and/or broken.

"A little. It was…" he trailed off.

"What? It was…?"

"I was my grandfather's…" Sherlock muttered. "He was the only one who ever cared. He left it to me in his will."

"Really? Cool." John said. Then he frowned. "He didn't leave you any money?"

"He had none… My Mother took it all from him." Sherlock said coldly.

"Oh god, really?" John asked, shocked. Sherlock nodded quickly. John placed a hand on his shoulder and Sherlock just gave him a small smile, telling him silently that he was fine.

"You know, Mycroft always told me…"

"What?"

"That sentiment is… silly. For example, keeping the telescioe,"

"But sentiment isn't silly…"

"He also said that… caring isn't an advantage."

"Well, he's the silly one then." John said. Sherlock sighed. "What?"

"I never listened… I you thought I had."

"No. I didn't think you had. If you had, you wouldn't have your grandfather's telescope." John said, with a smile. John knew that caring _was_ an advantage. It gave you something to fight for. But John wondered… Was he caring about the wrong thing now? Was he caring too much? He quickly shook the sudden thoughts from his head, watching Sherlock as he pulled out clothes and various other things from the cupboards and draws.

"Need any help?" he offered.

"Could you grab that hold-all near the bucket?" Sherlock asked. John hurried over to it, picking it up and taking it to Sherlock, who began meticulously folding, well… everything.

"Why don't you get that fixed?"

"Get what fixed?" Sherlock asked, not looking up.

"The roof…"

"Oh, nobody else knows about it. They don't come up here, and if I told them they wouldn't believe me." Sherlock explained with a sigh and a shrug. John grimaced.

"Can't you get someone to fix it?"

"And what would I pay them with?" Sherlock muttered sarcastically. John sighed.

"Of course. Sorry.2

"No need to be." Sherlock said with a smile. He knew John hadn't thought of those details. He was soon packed, and they left the attic bedroom quickly, clambering down the ladder. Sherlock threw the ladder back up and pushed the door shut with the stick. They heard footsteps coming up the stairs, though and Sherlock groaned as Mycroft appeared.

"Still here?" he spat.

"We're just leaving." Sherlock growled vehemently.

"Oh good." And Mycroft disappeared into his room.

"Shall we?" Sherlock asked. John nodded, and followed him down the stairs. As the left, Sherlock called back throughout the house: "Laterz!" and John couldn't help but laugh as they ran back to his mother's car.

Things were relatively quiet on the way back to John's house. The boys said a quick thank you to Mrs Watson before rushing upstairs, barely registering her announce that tea would be at 7.

John showed Sherlock how to play various card games, and even tried some basic tricks. But, of course, Sherlock saw through them all. But it didn't annoy John; he found it wonderful, and was grinning from ear to ear. After tea they watched a film. John found it hilarious that Sherlock was just constantly correcting the characters, and he ended up listening more to Sherlock than to the actual film.

After that, John suggested they watch Doctor Who. Sherlock agreed, although he'd never seen it before. Of course, he criticised everything the Doctor did, but yet again, John was listening to him, not the TV.

As they put in the next disc, and pressed "play all", John yawned. They quickly changed into their pyjamas. John noticed that Sherlock had folded his clothes meticulously again, they didn't even look worn…

This time, Sherlock actually had pyjamas. They were a mix of being too big and too small… That is to say they were too wide for him, but too short for him. When John frowned in confusion, Sherlock explained that they were one of Mycroft's old sets. That certainly explained the argument they were having with Sherlock's ankles.

And yet, he still looked dazzling, as the material draped loosely over his body as he sat with John on the mattress.

As the programme went on, Sherlock's smooth baritone voice continued to interject at selected moments, and John found his eyes growing heavy. At first, herlock didn't notice the weight on his shoulder, for he was far too engrossed in his mini-commentary, but when the credits rolled once more, he realised the sleeping form of John Watson leant comfortably against him. He moved to wake him, but then decided against it. Instead, he turned off the TV, laid John down gently, and switched off the light before lying down beside him, staring up through the darkness of the ceiling. With the warmth of John next to him, Sherlock was soon fast asleep.

John woke up first. He felt an odd warmth from beside him, and as he opened his eyes he flushed bright red. His arm was draped across Sherlock's chest, and his leg wrapped around him. He began to move, when…

"Ah, John. You're awake." Came the familiar baritone, as Sherlock opened one eye and smiled. John froze. Okay, so he wasn't the first to wake up…

"How long have you… been awake?" John asked, sheepishly.

"Around an hour." Sherlock muttered. "I would have woken you up, but you looked far too peaceful and content." He continued. John felt heat rise into his cheeks. Okay, _more_ heat.

"I-I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, sitting up hurriedly.

"Don't worry, John. I had no problem with it." He smiled at John in the warmest way he ever had. John smiled back involuntarily. "Breakfast?" Sherlock asked, pushing himself up to stand. John nodded, grinning.

This was how most of their evenings and subsequent mornings were spent. They would sometimes go somewhere in the day, like the park down the road or the cinema, and then in the evening John would show Sherlock a game, or other normal pastime. Then they would watch a film, or TV show, and John would fall asleep half-way through, waking up snuggled next to Sherlock each morning. Sherlock never minded, never complained, but John would always apologise and hurriedly get up.

Christmas Day wasn't hugely different. Sherlock watched on as John opened his presents. Socks, games, DVDs, the odd book and various pieces of clothing; often jumpers. The smile of gratitude on John's face as he opened each gift was beautiful. That was more than enough of a present for Sherlock. He never got presents from his family. When he was younger, they would tell him Santa had said he'd been far too naughty for gifts. Now, they were open about their resentment for him. He'd already explained many times over to John that watching him open his presents was so much better than watching Mycroft… But John still felt guilty.

Neither of them had bought the other a gift, since they were always together; so John was confused when Sherlock handed him a small envelope after his Mother had left to make the Christmas dinner.

"'Lock? What's this?" he asked.

"A present. I hope you don't mind, I had to use your paper and stuff." Sherlock said. "I made it while you were sleeping the other night, and hid it in my bag."

John was speechless. He carefully opened the hand-made envelope and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

"Oh, yes, and you printer…" Sherlock added, causing John to look at him, confused. Sherlock just smiled.

John unfolded the paper. It was an A3 sheet, and John couldn't help but gasp. In the centre was an A4 print-out of a photograph of the two of them. John blushed, realising it was one of them when he was asleep and cuddling Sherlock as though he was a giant teddy. But Sherlock was smiling, one arm wrapped around John's shoulders, the other obviously holding the camera.

"Sherlock… I…" he stammered, blushing wildly.

"Too much?" Sherlock asked, nervous. John looked back at the paper. In elegant handwriting was written above the image:

_"For John, at Christmas"_

John smiled, letting his eyes travel to the bottom of the image:

_"Thank You For Everything, From your friend, Sherlock."_

Surrounding the elegant calligraphy and photo, were various swirls and smiley faces. John grinned.

"It's amazing, 'Lock!" he said, looking his friend fondly in the eye. "Thank you so much."

"The point was rather for me to thank _you_ , John." Sherlock said sarcastically, but softly with a smile. John laughed.

"For…?"

"For being my friend, and showing me I'm not such an awful person, like my family…" From anyone else, that would sound stupid. But coming from Sherlock… John was beaming. He folded the poster carefully back up, and returned it to the envelope for its own safety, before turning to Sherlock and throwing his arms around his thin frame. He didn't see the blush creep into Sherlock's cheeks.

Sherlock was warm. Not in the sense of body heat, but in the sense that it just felt right to hug him. For a moment, John just revelled in the feeling, as Sherlock's own skinny arms wrapped around him in turn at last. But he knew, somewhere in his heart, the moment couldn't last, it was soon to end… And this feeling that burned in his heart would never be reciprocated. Sherlock was his best friend now. Asking for more than that was almost certainly asking for too much. John knew Sherlock better than anyone, because Sherlock had opened his heart to him. That meant he knew that asking for more than friendship at this point I time would do no one any favours.

But John was still happy. He had his friend. His amazing, surreal, marvellous, genius friend. He had his friend, who didn't mind hugging him when he fell asleep; didn't care if they shared a mattress on the floor each night, and didn't find John irritating, or clingy… And John would keep that friend, no matter what.

The remainder of the holiday passed in much the same fashion as before. They did go to a festival in town on New Years Eve, but even John found it unbearably dull, so they left early.

All too soon, they found the holiday drawing to a close. On the Saturday before they went back to school, John noticed Sherlock was quieter than normal…

"'Lock? You okay?" John asked.

"The holiday is nearly over…" he muttered. John prompted him to continue. "I'll have to go home." John looked down sadly. He'd actually forgotten abot that. Sherlock had become a part of the family, almost. But he wasn't…

"I forgot." He admitted. Sherlock frowning in confusion. "I forgot you had to go home…" he clarified quietly. He leant on Sherlock's shoulder. Neither of them were really paying attention to the TV anymore…

"Do you… want to leave?" John asked. Sherlock stared at him like he'd just admitted to destroying his grandfather's telescope…

"No! Why would I?" he retorted.

"I don't know." John laughed, nervously. "Boredom?"

"I can't get bored with you." Sherlock said. John blushed, and Sherlock grinned in response.

"I'd say you could move in with us, but…"

"But that's a bit extreme…" Sherlock finished. John nodded with a sigh and a sad smile, his head still rested against Sherlock's shoulder.

"It's going to be quiet without you…" Sherlock could hear the tears building up, and he rubbed John's arm reassuringly.

"I'll walk you home everyday. We could go into town…" Sherlock suggested. "Have dinner in town?"

"You have no money." John pointed out.

"If it keeps me away from the house, my mother will give me money." Sherlock reminded him with a laugh. John smiled.

"Only a few nights a week."

"Of course. I do't want to tear you away from your Mother." Sherlock admitted seriously.

Monday morning came around far too quickly after that. John barely even remembered Sunday, but he woke up snuggled against Sherlock, as usual. Sherlock was, of corse, already awake, staring at the ceiling.

"Good morning, John." He said.

"It's not a good morning…" John muttered sadly, burying his head in Sherlock's shoulder.

"I know…" Sherlock whispered back, burying his own head in John's hair, ghosting his lips against his scalp.

They trudged towards the school, heads bowed, as though they were on the way to a funeral. It was raining too, which only made things worse. But John wasn't thinking about the terrible weather, or the homework due in first lesson that he hadn't done. He was trying to think of a way to destroy… okay, that was a bit strong… forget? No… push back the feelings that he'd found blossoming for Sherlock. He was sure Sherlock would never feel that way about _anyone_ , let alone John. So he vowed he wouldn't act on them…

As they entered the school , and walked towards tutor, as though someone truly had died, John opportunity arose. They were sat outside the tutor room and a girl from their year came over to them. She was in a few of their classes. John vaguely recalled her name being Sarah.

"H-hi…" she stuttered, blushing madly. "You're John, right?"

"Yes. Hi." John said, smiling warmly at her.

"Um… well…" she stammered around for a while. "I was wondering… if you'd… like to go out with me sometime?" she finally asked. John could see the opportunity clear as day… But there were two problems: 1: He'd probably be leading her on… 2: It may just break his heart to try and forget his feelings for Sherlock. But he knew that he needed this…

"Sure." He said. "When were you thinking?" As he discussed it with her, he didn't notice Sherlock's clenched fists and closes eyes. He didn't see how close Sherlock was to tears, and how difficult it was for him to avoid them. Sherlock just knew he'd take backseat, now that John had a girlfriend…

Over the first half of the spring term, John did a pretty good job of splitting his time between the two. This was surprising for Sherlock and Sarah both. However, as kind and loving as John was towards Sarah, an as much as they all believed it, his feelings were much different.

His love for Sherlock was only growing stronger each day, and it was killing him. So, over the half term break, he resolved to spend more time with Sarah. He _would_ love her!


	7. Going Out Of My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Please talk to me, whatever is wrong… You know I'd help you out… 'Cause I'm going out of my mind, and I don't think it's fair." – Going Out of My Mind, Amy Studt (seriously, just listen to the whole song XD)
> 
> Sherlock tries to continue as normal, even with Sarah around, but John starts to ignore him.

Sherlock was fine. Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine… Spring saw a normal school-life unfold… His best friend had a girlfriend. He didn't have anyone… John was all he had. It was fine for the first half of spring term… John managed to split his time between meeting Sherlock and meeting Sarah. Sherlock could deal with it, kind of, as long as he still had John… his friend.

But then half-term came, and he was nothing. He called John every day. Not once did he pick up, or return his calls. By the end of the week, he had locked himself in his room. He didn't eat, and he barely slept. When school came around again, his walls were up, and stronger than ever.

It made no difference.

John was ignoring him. It was as if Sherlock no longer existed. Had Christmas ever happened? Had John forgotten everything already. Sherlock reasoned eventually that he must have dreamt it all… The whole 2 weeks… and the three months after. He sat alone at lunch-time, and allowed a single tear to escape his eye. Nobody cared. Nobody asked what was wrong.

John would have, but John was gone. He looked across the canteen, and there they were, laughing together. Sherlock simply couldn't take it… He stood and walked to the toilets, locking himself in a cubicle. He closed the toilet hid, and sat down, letting his head fall into his hands as he sobbed.

It was all over…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry! For all of it! The shortness, the pain... Just... sorry...


	8. Invisible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Would have done more than anything back then to make you smile… So why you wanna go kickstart the drama? Now don't you know you can't break through my armor. Just leave me alone… Now I'll be the one that gets to not return your calls. And you'll be the one who gets feel invisible." – Kickstart, JLS (I used to listen to them… Once.)
> 
> Sherlock's walls are back, and they're stronger than ever…

It had been two weeks since half term ended. John was in the toilets, staring at his face in the mirror, as he splashed cold water on it. He could hear Sarah banging insistently on the door of the forbidden area.

"John, please! I'm just worried about you! Come out!" she called. Brilliant wording… He wanted to scream, to never see her face again.

He'd tried. He really had tried. But somehow he'd tried so hard, he'd made himself ill. The stress stopped him sleeping, and he had basically stopped eating, but his immune system had suffered for it, and now he threw up anything he even tried to eat. Sarah had been going insane with worry over it, because he couldn't take it… She wasn't what he wanted. He'd tried to deny it, the argue against it so much it became true. But it didn't work… He knew what he really needed.

He needed Sherlock.

He pulled his hands down his face and looked at himself one last time in the mirror, before he took a deep breath and stormed out of the toilets, pushing roughly past Sarah.

"John!" she cried, trying to grab his sleeve, and failing.

"Leave me alone…" he muttered. Sarah sighed, sadly. He wasn't well. Why wouldn't he just admit it?

John marched around the entire school, searching every corner, but to his disappointment, Sherlock was nowhere to be found…

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John was gone. Good. Sherlock unlocked the toilet cubicle and went to the mirror. He looked paler than usual, the circles beneath his eyes deeper and darker than he'd seen them in a while. He splashed icy water on his face with a sigh. John had broken him. He'd built him up, made him feel secure, and then destroyed him… Burned him to a crisp. Whatever had existed of his heart was gone, shattered into a thousand tiny pieces by John, the only person that had ever mattered to him.

But Sherlock had learnt something from John, and he should be thankful for that.

Caring isn't an advantage. It only makes things worse, and sets you up for a fall. A long fall with a very permanent and very painful destination.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John sighed, and the bell for lessons rang. He made his way, reluctantly, towards the science room. Thankfully, Sarah wasn't in this lesson with him. But, as usual, Sherlock was. The pain it would cause him to not talk to Sherlock was near unbearable, but he knew he had to try and pull through.

Sherlock never showed.

Afterwards, John trudged home, Sarah talking animatedly at him, about some meaningless gossip to do with her friend, Lizzie.

"I'll see you tomorrow." John said to her as they reached his house, forcing a smile. Sarah pecked him affectionately on the cheek, and turned to almost skip down the road.

John went straight to his room. His mother sighed, sadly. John never did anything anymore. She knew why, but she also knew that John had to figure it out for himself, but she hoped he sorted it soon, because he was making himself terribly ill…

John threw his bad into a corner aggressively, but tripped as he was doing so. HE caught himself before he hit the ground, but it still made a very loud THUMP sound.

"John!?" came his Mother's panic-stricken voice.

"I'm fine!" John called back, a little shaken. But as he was about to get up, he saw an envelope under his bed… He frowned, stretching out to pick it up. He got carefully to his feet, and sat gently on his bed, staring at the beautiful calligraphy on the front: John Watson.

He opened it up and pulled out the folded the piece of paper inside… He slowly unfolded it and drew in a sharp, quick breath.

Tears sprang to his eyes at the sight of the photo and the heartfelt message on it. Sherlock…

What had he been thinking!? Being without Sherlock was a stupid idea to begin with. He needed Sherlock. Somehow, over two weeks, the strange boy had taken over his life. Then, suddenly, with a horrid wrench in his stomach he realised… He hadn't spoken to Sherlock in weeks. He'd opened up Sherlock's heart at last, and he may just have locked it again… Forever.

Tears streamed from his eyes, and he collapsed into a sobbing mess on his bed. He was like that for the rest of the night.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John walked into the tutor room nervously the next morning. There he was. Sherlock. Sat in his usual seat. John went over tentatively, and sat down.

"Where were you in chemistry yesterday?" he asked, as a way to begin the conversation. Sherlock didn't respond, but then tutor began and John had no chance to say anything more.

At break, Sherlock disappeared. He didn't come to period 3 or 4, and John couldn't find him at lunch. He did see Sarah though, and John knew what he had to do; even if he would hate himself for the rest of eternity for it…

"S-Sarah?" he asked. Sarah could see from his face that it wasn't going to be good. "Can… Can I talk to you?" Sarah nodded silently and followed him away from her friends.

"Is everything okay, John?" she asked, knowing the answer already, although not the reason.

"I… well… no." John said quietly. "I'm so sorry Sarah. You know the last thing I want to do is hurt you.. But… I can't be with you anymore." There. He'd said it.

Sarah looked down, forcing herself to stay calm. "Why?" she asked, without looking up.

"I-uh…" John sighed, looking at the floor in shame. "I like someone else…" he whispered. Sarah nodded with a sad smile.

"I… I understand." She breathed, her voice cracking. And she did understand. She'd seen him with Sherlock… Before she'd come along. A small stab of guilt twisted in her gut. But she ignored it, trying to stay strong.

"I really am so, so, so sorry.."

"I know." Sarah said, looking up to smile at him. But John could see the tears welling up in her eyes. Without another word, she turned and walked back to her friends. It was over.

John sighed. That was off his chest at least. Thank God. He did feel bad for Sarah. In fact he felt awful, but staying with her for such a ridiculous reason as to 'not hurt her' would be painfully detrimental to them both; more so for himself. He let the feeling of being single again sink in for a moment. He felt an odd sense of freedom, although it was tainted by his guilt. He didn't have to be around Sarah anymore, listening to her talk about pointless gossip, so that was good. But there was still one problem.

He was no closer to reconciling with Sherlock. He didn't even know if reconciliation was an option.

Thankfully, Sherlock had returned for English. Obviously, though, Sarah wasn't the only one that knew why John had ended it. Sally Donovan, daughter to their English teacher, and close friend to Sarah, took the time before he mother arrived to direct various gay jokes and homophobic comments towards John. Only Sarah spoke up against her, and John gave her a grateful look. She smiled at him sadly, before sitting down, as Mrs Donovan entered the classroom.

Halfway through the lesson, Mrs Donovan left them for a few minutes to do their work. Animated conversations cropped up all over the room, and John decided to make his move. He gulped.

"Sherlock?" he asked, as he turned around. Sherlock had his head down, scribbling furiously as he did his work. "Sherlock, I am sorry…" he said, yet again to no response. He sighed in defeat, as Mrs Donovan returned and the lesson continued in silence.

Sherlock barely listened to the dull teacher drone on. John had apologised. No. He wouldn't open back up… He couldn't. For his own sake.

However, he couldn't help what he did at the end of the lesson, as Sally Donovan continued her assault on John. He was packed up before everyone else as usual anyway, so he stood and turned to her.

"Sally Donovan." He said ominously. Said girl immediately turned her head to look at him, as did everyone elsein the room. Sherlock could feel John's gaze burning his skin, but ignored it. "I do hope that you realise, your mother is sleeping with her female Zumba instructor, and therefore you have no right to judge other people's sexual orientation." He announced. "Not that you should anyway." He then stooped to retrieve his bag and left the classroom, which was suddenly weighed down by a deathly silence.

Everyone was staring at Sally's mother, who was red with embarrassment and anger, tears brimming in her eyes. She knew the Holmes boy was a freak with a brain like a super-computer… but how…?

Sally was simply horrified.

"You're cheating on Dad!?" she yelled. "WITH A WOMAN!?" the class quickly evacuated to spare themselves the explosive argument that was sure to follow.

John walked slower than normal. Sherlock had… He'd done that because they'd been mocking John. Perhaps there was still hope for forgiveness…

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sherlock had the whole walk home now… To think. Why had they been calling John 'gay'? He let his mind drift back to what he'd seen through the lesson. Usually, Sarah would be standing next to John, speaking about the latest scandal or some other useless thing. But today, she'd been sat in he seat, looking down. Sherlock 'zoomed in' on her. A tear had been slipping down her cheek… When she'd defended John against Sally, she had said: "And who cares if he is!?" which surely wasn't normal behaviour if it was her boyfriend they were calling gay… Then it clicked.

They'd split up.

John had most likely dumper her, or Sally, one of Sarah's friends, wouldn't have been calling him gay…

Sherlock sighed, hearing his phone go off. He pulled it out of his pocket. It was John. Sherlock decided to ignore it. His phone went off three more times as he walked. He ignored them all.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John cursed, throwing his phone onto his bed in anger after the fourth call. Sherlock was ignoring his calls. Well, maybe his phone was out of charge? No. Sherlock's phone was always charged… Maybe he hadn't heard it? Stupid. He had no need for silent-mode and at this time he was in the middle of nowhere…

John was being ignored. Like he was invisible. His heart sank into his stomach as he realised this was how Sherlock must have felt…He cursed again. He'd been so stupid. He'd ruined everything…

He just had to fix it. But how?


	9. Never Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This world will never be what I expected. And if I don't belong… who would've guessed it?... Maybe we'll turn it all over, 'cause it's not too late, it's never too late… The world we knew won't come back. The time we've lost can't get back. The life we had won't be ours again…" – Never Too Late, Three Days Grace.
> 
> John takes a leap of faith. It's all or nothing now.

John left it for a couple of hours. Calling too much wouldn't help. He tried once more before bed, but still got nothing. He cried himself to sleep, thinking of how much he'd screwed things over. Could he ever get Sherlock back?

The next day, Sherlock was punished for his attitude to Mrs Donovan. Their tutor reluctantly said Sherlock had an after-school detention for his behaviour. He hated Mrs Donovan and really didn't want to punish Sherlock… But he had to, lest he be the one getting punished, far more severely.

John watched Sherlock leave the classroom in a glazed over silence, and then went up to his tutor's desk.

"John? Is something the matter?" he asked.

"Sir, why are you punishing Sherlock? You obviously don't want to…" John muttered.

"He 'spoke out of term', John." The teacher sighed. "Personally, I think it put her right in her bloody place, but rules are rules."

"What if you gave me detention as well? I could… keep him company, make it less hard on him?" John suggested. His tutor frowned a little.

"I thought that you two had fallen out…" he muttered, confused.

"I… I want to sort it out." John replied, sheepishly.

"Ah. Well, I'd gladly let you, but I have no reason to."

"Hm… What if I spoke out of term, too?" John asked with a cheeky smile.

"Hm?" the tutor prompted. John grinned and swore at the top of his lungs. His tutor chuckled. "John Watson! Detention after school today!" he said as convincingly as he could.

"Thanks, sir." John said, leaving the classroom and texting his mother to explain the situation.

John watched Sherlock all day. The boy was quiet, acting normal, and John had to try his hardest to avoid the urge to go and speak to him. It was overwhelming how much he wanted to, but he would wait…

John took a moment to remember his expectations of live at a younger age. He sighed as the thoughts came back to him. When he was young, he'd imagined that he'd meet a beautiful girl, sweep her off her feet and live 'happily ever after' with her and two kids. That certainly wasn't what had happened… Or ever would happen. Perhaps the world would never be what he expected… Instead of the simple fantasy he'd imagined, John's experience of love was: falling for his closest friend within days of knowing him, trying desperately to avoid the attraction, and therefore only succeeding in making the attraction worse, and screwing over their friendship. He'd expected happiness, plain and simple, and he'd received pain and confusion… But he wouldn't change it for the world.

He bided his time, remaining silent in lessons, and trying not to talk to Sherlock… It was painful, but he managed (how, he didn't know).

Finally the end of the day arrived. Sherlock left the room, and John quickly followed, ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach. He had no idea how this would go… And he wasn't quite sure if he wanted to know…

"Ah, Sherlock… Here for your detention?" asked their tutor. Sherlock nodded mutely. "Just one more student."

John walked through the door.

"There you are, John. Here for your detention too." He said. John nodded. Sherlock just stared. Right, I'll be back later, I have a few errands to run…" the tutor said, nodding to John as he left.

Only John noticed the little 'click' noise the door made after the teacher had locked it.

"Sherlock…" he muttered. No response. "'Lock." He saw Sherlock tense at the nickname. "I-"

"Finally decided to talk to me, I see." Sherlock said, bitterness poisoning his mind, and his words with rage and anger. "Well, there's not a lot of point. You've already made things perfectly clear to me. I certainly don't need telling."

"'Lock, please-!"

"'Lock? Isn't that the sort of nickname a friend might call me by!?" Sherlock snapped. He was turned away from John, facing the wall, so the other wouldn't see the tears falling rapidly from his eyes.

"Yes… I know. And I am so sorry." John muttered, closing his eyes and looking down. His fists were clenched. "I should never have blocked you out like that…" he said quietly. "But I… I need you to understand why I did, okay?"

Sherlock said nothing. He just made for the door, unwilling to listen to any half-baked excuse John could come up with. It was hurting him far too much already, and he didn't want to hurt…

"Sir locked it." John whispered. Sherlock tried it anyway.

"How very unsafe." He said, mechanical and blank. "If a fire were to break out, we could quite easily be forgotten about."

"What a cheery thought." John said, sarcastically. Sherlock tried not to smile. Thankfully, he was stil turned away.

God he'd missed John so much. Missed his voice, his stories, his head rested again him. The feeling of his body lodged snuggly against his own… His attempts to block out the beautiful memories were fruitless, and tears began to stream down his face again… "Sherlock… please listen." John's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Fine." Sherlock said dully.

"This isn't… easy…." John stammered, fumbling for the right words. "But… you should know; I never liked Sarah."

That stung, and Sherlock nearly broke down into sobs. That meant that John had abandoned him for some meaningless bimbo he didn't even like… Great.

"I only dated her to… To try and… Cover up what I really felt…" he continued. His voice caught though, and tears sprang to his eyes. "Sherlock…" he croaked. "Would you look at me?" he asked. "Please."

Sherlock took a deep, steadying breath, and turned around. His eyes were puffy and red, and his face was wet from the tears he hadn't wiped away. John heart broke at the sight of his friend, his Sherlock, so lost and broken… This was all his fault. Sherlock had seemed so calm before he'd turned around… But it was just a façade… This was the truth. This was the pain that John had caused his best friend.

Sherlock had to know the truth. It was all or nothing now…

"I… I know I can't bring back the time we've lost. And I can't take back the horrid things I've done… But I can be honest with you now." John said, looking Sherlock in the eye. "I didn't like Sarah… I liked someone else. Someone I should never have fallen for. Some I knew… couldn't reciprocate." He took a deep breath to steady himself, and looked down again. "You, Sherlock…"

Sherlock just stared, struck by confusion.

"I dated Sarah to escape it… I dated her to escape the pain that I felt thinking… knowing… that you'd never feel the same. I thought I could make myself love her… I guess… I was wrong. It just made the pain worse and worse." He paused to wipe his eyes, but more tears just spilled over. "D-did you know I broke up with her yesterday?"

"I'd figured it out." Sherlock muttered, blankly.

"I thought you might… You've always been smart." John chuckled lightly, with a sad smile. "I know… I know we probably can't be the same as before… But I just… All I need to know now, is that you… don't hate me. I need you…. I need you back, Sherlock. But… Maybe it's… too late? Maybe you can't forgive me?" he asked. "Is it too late to salvage anything?"

"It's never too late." Sherlock said. John's face lit up as he looked up again. "The truth is John… You were wrong. Maybe you thought it wasn't in my capacity, or it was too much for me, when I'd only just discovered friendship. But it wasn't… It… It isn't." Sherlock said quickly, not looking at John. "You're right about something, though. We can't go back to how we were… Going back to that won't be enough. Not for me. You know, John… When I made you that present… I didn't want to write friend." He rambled, as he tried but failed not to blush. "I… I feel at home with you, John. I feel warm, and happy. I feel safe. And, dare I say it, I feel… loved."

That was it. John burst into tears. He'd been so cruel, so stupid… He feel to his knees. Sherlock stared at him, horrified.

"D-did I say something horrid!?" he cried. John shook his head. Sherlock started towards the shaking figure of John.

"I've been so stupid! Why didn't I just.. Oh God, 'Lock, can you ever forgive me?"

"John… You sound like a cheesy movie… But yes." John looked up to see Sherlock stood over him, smiling. "I forgive you, John." He said, stooping down to wrap his arms around John protectively. He was vaguely aware of the 'click' of a lock behind him, but he payed it no heed.

They sat like that for a while, in silence, bathing in the return of each other's presence. Eventually, they managed to stand and took turns wiping away each other's tears. They stood for a moment, staring into each other's eyes, before Sherlock leant down to plant a chaste kiss on John's lips, which he happily returned. They then clasped their hands together, and left the classroom, walking out into the warm, spring air.

"Want to come to mine?" John asked. Sherlock smiled.

"I'd love to." He said.

Mrs Watson was overjoyed to see Sherlock again, and even happier when she learnt of their new status as "boyfriends", glad to finally see John smiling again. They fell in the old routine as if no time had passed at all. That night, John fell asleep next to Sherlock, who let his walls crumble to the ground again, glad to have his John back.

John invited Sherlock to stay at his every weekend, and he eagerly accepted.

At school, people would jeer at them, and call out abuse, all except Sarah, who looked at the two and smiled, glad that John had sorted everything out.

All the jeerers would get for their troubles though, was a glare or snide comment from Sherlock. This usually shut them up, but if it didn't and they tried again, Sherlock would clasp John's hand tightly, before making an embarrassing deduction about the attacker's personal life. In the end, most people simply left them to it.

John had still never spoken to Mike, Tom or James since the incident in winter, and he didn't plan to. All he needed was Sherlock. He didn't need shallow idiots that would never understand. He was happy and that was all that mattered.

Eventually, they were fully open about their relationship in public, stealing kisses before lessons began, holding hands around the school, and other little things.

They were known throughout the school; John especially… The only person who had ever reached Sherlock Holmes' heart, and the only one that ever would.

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading! I hope you've enjoyed it <3 I certainly enjoyed writing it x

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a series of one-shots... But since they all lead on so well from each other, I made them into a chaptered fic :)


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